


The autumn affair - Napoleon

by HollyMcCoy



Series: The autumn affair [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Exhaustion, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyMcCoy/pseuds/HollyMcCoy
Summary: My take on the aftermath of one of their first missions together.





	The autumn affair - Napoleon

**Author's Note:**

> There is a piece that shows Illya's view:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823884

We stumbled through the door and slammed it shut behind us. This was the first dry and semi safe room either of us had been in for days. Regardless we went around the room checking for cameras, microphones or explosives. Illya went to the right and I went to the left. We met at the single window, shook our heads at each other and went over the other’s side of the room. Exhaustedly I checked in the bathroom. Illya was waiting by the door for me and when I joined him, he reported: “Clean”.

I could only manage a nod in confirmation. I leaned against the door in the hope of dispelling the fogginess I felt, for a moment. It didn’t work. I gestured to the small bathroom and urged: “Go ahead. I’ll try to find something to eat”.

It was a testament to Illya’s own weariness, when he just nodded and started pulling his wet shirt of. His jacket had been lost some miles back. He carried his gun at his belt and so the white shirt clung to his body like a second skin. He wet fabric was pulled tight over his muscular back. The room was small and the door to the bathroom closed before I had glanced more than a pale shoulder. For a moment, I stood starring at the closed door, lost in thought. Then I heaved a sigh, checked for my gun in its holster and went to find some food.

The vending machine in the basement yielded some sandwiches and two bottles of soda. In a stroke of luck, the door to the maintenance room was behind a corner and there seemed to be no cameras. It was the late and the door was locked. Happily, I was able to resolve that quickly. Inside I found what I had been hopping for: a lost and found basket. I went through it quickly and in less than two minutes I was unlocking the door to our room. The shower was still running and I deposited my finds on the bed, before pulling off my own wet jacket. I put my gun next to the sandwiches and considered for a moment. Then I kicked of my soaked shoes and socks, pulled of my pants and finally my shirt. This left me in my underpants. They were soaked through like the rest of my clothes and left little to the imagination. I eyed to bathroom door uneasily for a moment, but then shrugged to myself. Illya would have seen man in underwear before. It was no different than the communal showers at the gym, I decided.

I pulled the single chair over to the bed and sat down with a grimace. There was enough rain and lake water left to cause an audible squelch. Well. I dissembled my gun and was just wearily wondering how to dry and oil it, when the door to the bathroom opened. Illya walked out with a towel around his waist and his wet clothes in his hands. He shook his damp hair out of his face and looked up at me. His eyes went wide, but not a single muscle moved on his face. Single droplets of water were running down his chest where he hadn’t thoroughly toweled his hair. Unmoving we starred at each other for a moment, before he turned away. He gestured towards the bathroom over his shoulder: “Eta still goryachaya voda left”, he informed me.

I gaped at him in shock. Up until now, he had never spoken in anything other, than perfect English to me. He must have been exhausted.

I closed my mouth before he saw my expression, said nothing, but nodded in thanks. I grabbed the bigger of the two t-shirts I had liberated from the maintenance room. It informed people that I was 40 and asked them to help me on my Harley. It was also dry and even freshly laundered. I had a shower and enjoyed the water that was indeed still pleasantly hot. I hoped the amount of mud still coming out of my hair would not clog the drain, but apparently today was my lucky day. I toweled of and put on the shirt. I grimaced again as I put on my wet shorts.

When I came back out, Illya was sitting on the bed and was just putting a clip back in my pistol. He had put on the other shirt and it proclaimed him to be a female body inspector. I cringed and considered apologizing, but then kept silent. He loaded a round in the chamber and pulled back the hammer. He checked the safety catch and then looked up. He turned the gun in his hand without letting go of it and held it out to me, butt first. I smiled tiredly at him in thanks and took the gun back from him. His own gun was lying next to him. I sat down on the already wet chair and put my feet up the edge of the bed. Illya threw me a sandwich and we ate silently, too exhausted to talk.

When we finished I pushed myself up and sighed: “Let’s sleep. I want to leave before dawn”.

Illya looked up surprised and asked: “No watch?”.

I shook my head and told him: “We both can barely stand. Let’s get what sleep we can and then leave as early as we can manage. I think we have a few hours at least”.

He looked ready to argue but a huge yawn ended that discussion before it could start and he agreed reluctantly. He must have known that I didn’t like it either, but there was just no sense in one of us falling asleep in the chair. There was no way we would be able to stay up without some serious drugs. Two days running and hiding would do that to a man.

When he threw a pillow on the floor and started pulling of the covers of the bed, it took me a minute to understand what he was doing. Even then, I just stood there starring until he was almost finished. Then I managed to shake myself and ask aghast: “What are you doing?”.

“You take the bed. Ya splyu na floor”, he explained if this was the most logical thing in the world.

I continued to stare wide eyed and only managed to repeat: “Why?”.

He looked at me in equal confusion and answered: “You are the starshiy… senior agent, yes?”.

What? My sleep deprived brain could not comprehend what was going on here. There was a perfectly good bed right here. Sure, it would be a close fit, but there was certainly no need for anybody to sleep on the floor!

“Illya get on the bed! There is space enough for both of us”, I told him exasperated.

But he just stood there and shook his head, bed-cover still in his hands. That was too much for me. I was too tired for his misguided chivalry or whatever this was supposed to be. I picked up the other pillow and made ready to throw it next to the bed: “If you sleep on the floor, so will I”.

It was my partners turn to look at me aghast. Yet he did not move. Before resigning myself to a night on the ground, I tried again: “Get on the bed Agent Kuryakin”.

That was a mistake. Oh boy, was that a mistake! His face lost all expression and his eyes went as cold as ice. He stilled his body and lines made soft with exhaustion, were hard as rock, again. He looked as forbidding as his reputation.

In a voice, devoid of all inflection he asked: “Is that an order, sir?”.

Well wasn’t I the diplomatic one? I sighed tiredly and rubbed my hands over my face before answering in a voice as mild as I could make it: “Of course not. I just want to go to sleep”.

I looked at him and made a conscious effort to drop every pretence I still held. I let him see my exhaustion and asked: “So what’s it to be? A night on the floor or on the bed? Where will we sleep?”.

Illya looked at me for a seemingly endless moment and I had plenty of time to wonder if I had gambled away all the common ground we had gained during this mission. We were not exactly easily compatible. Illya was as used to as I to having his orders obeyed. Both of us were very good at what we did and could respect that in each other. We had acted as partners - at no time during the mission or even before, had I to issue anything so formal as an order. We assessed together, discussed our options and then decided together if possible. We seemed to agree almost always on the most sensible course of action. If not, Illya followed me. Contrary to all expectation, we had worked well together and our first mission had been a success. The difficulty in extraction was behind our control. And even that we had managed without any further casualties, beside a few nights of lost sleep and a ruined outfit each. Had I upset this seemingly easy equilibrium with just one thoughtless comment? Illa had not moved, but now he let his body relax again with a deliberate sigh. His face grew more animated again and he bent to pick up his pillow.

“Let us sleep”, he mumbled crossly.

I nodded in relief. I could live with him being cross. That was something I could manage in the morning if still necessary. At least he was not shutting me out. Or kicking the stuffing out of me. Gods, I was so tired!

We got up in the bed and lay stiffly beside each other. It was indeed a tight fit, but if we both kept to our respective edge of the bed, we managed to avoid touching each other. Which was silly considering how close we had been pressed together in that lake earlier and how much we had been touching all day. Oh well. Before long, exhaustion made at least me relax into the cheap mattress. From the other side of the bed came a grudging: “Spokoynoy nochi… Napoleon.”, followed by a yawn.

I smiled blearily and answered: “G’night, Illya”.  


I woke suddenly and with a start in the dark. When I lifted my head in the unfamiliar room, I needed a second to remember where I was. Some small town in a flyover state, hoping we had gained enough ground to allow us this brief rest. The fact that were still alive and no one was kicking the door down, was a good sign. I pulled my arm from the covers to check the time. That’s when I realised Illya and I were cuddled together in the middle of the bed, facing each other. My left leg was between his calves, our arms folded between us, almost holding hands. On my thigh, I could feel a heat, on which’s source I didn’t want to speculate at the moment. Well – sugar! We were as close as two lovers and had I had no memory of last night, I would have assumed, that we were indeed lovers. I should have slept on the floor. Or let Illya sleep on the floor. Or never joined UNCLE.

Nobody who had eyes could look at Illya and not consider him attractive. In addition, he was skilled, professional and had a dry sense of humor that was easy to miss. Had I met him at a certain kind of bar, I would have gone home with him without hesitation. But I hadn’t. He was my partner and I was at least technically his superior. While I considered being attracted to him acceptable, acting on that attraction was out of the question. Even if he had been interested.

I looked slowly up at Illya’s face, knowing he must have woken at my sudden start. His eyes were still closed, his breathing deep and even and he appeared for all the world like he was sleeping peacefully. Right. It was up to me it seemed – peachy.

The way I saw it, I could madly scramble away and pretend we had not migrated towards each other and literally spend the night in each other’s arms. Or I go back to hugging him and get my guts ripped out and served to me on a platter. Maybe if I pretended to believe he was still asleep, I could untangle myself carefully and we both could pretend we hadn’t touched at all.

Coming to a decision I sat up, using the motion to scoot away from Illya a bit, leaving our legs touching, but not entangled any longer. I shook him gently by the shoulder and told him quietly: “Wake up, Illya”.

He made a small show of giving a start and opened his eyes. He looked around the room briefly and then back at me. His face gave nothing away, as he waited how this was going to play out. I would still have bet, that he was thinking along the lines of told you so. I just smiled and pushed him gently on the shoulder: “Let’s go”.

He looked at me a moment longer and I forced myself to continued to smile at him. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Just two adults sharing a bed, comfortable enough with each other to accidentally touch without waking up. Nothing to see here, just move on. I willed him to accept that with all my might.

Finally, Illya nodded and pushed back the covers. I got up as well and grabbed my damp pants. I went into the bathroom to change and heave a deep sigh of relief in private. That could have gone very differently.

As it was, we dressed and were out the back door before the first light of dawn. We hotwired an old Ford and were on our way to more civilized parts. Illya slept in the passenger seat beside me and I had plenty of time to consider my new partner. We made it back to HQ eventually and after the briefest of reports to Waverly took ourselves off home to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language. I'm seriously trying to improve my writing and would love to hear from you. Any constructive criticism is welcome!  
> I have written more, but need to look over it before posting it.


End file.
